


Clumsy Love

by ContreParry



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: First Kisses, Fluff, M/M, in which not a lot of reading gets done, reading lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is determined to teach Fenris how to be free, and Fenris is determined to express his freedom in his own way. For the 2015 Fenders Secret Santa Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clumsy Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syrenpan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenpan/gifts).



> A Secret Santa Gift Exchange fic for syrenpan, who requested fluff.  
> "May I please have some fluff, I need fluff in my life. How about their first kiss? Only it’s awkward and goes all sorts of wrong - but their second kiss is so, so, so much better. It can be PG or nsfw - I love both, let your muse do the rest. No mention of abuse please, bring on the fluff."

Contrary to popular belief, Anders did not lock himself up in his clinic when he wasn't on an adventure with Hawke. When he snuffed out the lantern in the evenings he would lock the door, clean the clinic, swing his pack on his back, take up his staff, and use the door that led to Hawke's estate in Hightown to avoid the biting wind that came with winter. He took the door that eventually led to Fenris's mansion.  


Justice scolded him every time he made the trip to Hightown and Fenris's home. Said he was abandoning his duties and his people. Said he was running away from his responsibilities. Anders wished he'd shut up. Justice got so loud in his head, booming and commenting and never letting him rest- he didn't understand! Sometimes Anders needed a moment to himself, a moment to breathe and remember what freedom felt like and why life was worth living. Perhaps it was strange that he best remembered what freedom meant when in the company of Fenris, but the more Anders thought of it the less strange it was. He never felt as free as when he was showing others what freedom meant.  


**“You are being untruthful, Anders.”** Justice stated. **“You plan to seduce the elf.”**  


“If it happens it happens.” Anders retorted the spirit in his head, wrinkling his nose as he caught a whiff of the sour odor of rotten sewage and headed down the left-hand tunnel before climbing up a rusty metal ladder. “Fenris is allowed to make up his own mind on these matters, you know.”  


**“You are encouraging him. He is innocent and you plan to make him yours when he has no experience or background. It is unjust.”** Justice said, but he quieted in the back of Anders's head when Anders once again told him to shut up.  


Anders could not deny Justice's words. He knew he wanted Fenris. He had always found the elf damnably attractive, even when they fought. He found himself drawn to him, pulled by Fenris's forceful, willful personality. Anders was always attracted to rebels, and who was more rebellious than a runaway slave?  


But Justice was right, Anders acknowledged as he left the damp underground tunnels behind and snuck through Hawke's estate. Fenris was learning how to be a free man, and Anders couldn't push him. Shouldn't push him. It would be wrong to push Fenris when he was only just learning how to be free. Even if Anders was technically a wanted man, he always held an advantage over Fenris, who would always be hunted by Tevinter. But just because he was a fugitive didn't mean he always had to remain disadvantaged. Anders would do what he could to give Fenris the opportunities he always deserved and were denied to him.  


He walked across Hightown, empty and silent this winter night, and carefully entered Fenris's musty mansion. As disgusting as the old crumbling building was, there were a few rooms that Fenris maintained towards the back, away from the decayed elegance that marked the rest of the mansion . Anders stepped over decomposing bodies and mushrooms and climbed up the stairs. He walked down the hallway and knocked on one of the doors.  


“Come in.” Fenris called out, and Anders pushed the oak door open with a loud creaking sound.  


The room was warm. Fenris crouched in front of the fireplace, shifting some of the coals with a poker. He was stripped out of his armor, wearing his customary dark leggings and a loose white shirt just a little too big for his slender, leanly muscled frame. It hung slightly off his shoulder. He looked comfortable, and smaller than normal when he was decked out in his armor. Anders thought Fenris looked almost delicate, a word that Anders never thought he could apply to Fenris. He was a warrior through and through, but in the firelight, without his steel and sword, Fenris was approachable, softer, touchable- Anders smiled nervously at Fenris, who acknowledged him with a short nod. Anders noted a jug resting on the floor next to a plate piled high with tidbits of food- small meat pies, apple turnovers, and sugary cookies of some kind. The jug was probably filled with mulled wine. Fenris always provided wine for their meetings, and with the recent cold weather that hit Kirkwall he started supplying warmer drinks and even food. Anders was surprised by the hospitality Fenris showed him. Fenris took better care of his guests than himself. Anders approached the elf and the fire.  


“Hawke came by earlier to deliver food. I thought we could share.” Fenris stated, gesturing towards the plate. “Orana prepared it, so we need not worry about food poisoning.”  


“I brought another book.” Anders said, pulling a thin book from his pack. “We finished the other one last week.”  


“It's not another one of Varric's, is it?” Fenris asked, eyeing the volume bound in green linen. “I do not wish to read a story of Aveline's imagined sexual exploits-”  


“Maker no, nothing like that!” Anders laughed before settling himself down on the many cushions Fenris collected and set up in front of the fireplace. Fenris sat next to him, close enough to read from the same pages but far enough that their bodies were barely not touching. Anders felt the tantalizing warmth from Fenris's body and the faint hum of the lyrium under his skin, and he wanted to press up against that warmth like a friendly cat rubbing against a person's leg. He restrained his urges and reminded himself that moving too quickly and too much would scare Fenris off.  


“I don't think I could read another one of those without dying of laughter.” Anders set his pack and set it to the side to distract himself from Fenris's close proximity. “And Aveline isn't the type to swoon.”  


“Aveline does not heave her bosom either. Varric is terribly inaccurate.” Fenris agreed, reaching over to grab the jug of wine. “I forgot the cups. We'll have to share.”  


“Fine with me.” Anders replied as he took a savory meat pie and nibbled on it. “Maker bless Orana and her cooking. You want to start, or should I?”  


“I will.” Fenris took the volume and opened to the first page. He stumbled over the words, slowly gaining confidence with each sentence that he battled through each word, until words grew into sentences and then paragraph he successfully read without trouble. Anders nearly burst with pride as Fenris worked through more complex words and phrases without stuttering once, his rich voice filling the room with warmth and words.  


This was their arrangement, their weekly expression of personal freedom. An apostate would crawl out of the slums and tunnels where he made his home to teach a former slave how to read in a stolen mansion. It was their little secret that they jealously guarded, even from their own friends. They probably wouldn't understand it anyhow, Anders thought as Fenris turned a page. It was a strange arrangement between the two of them that was meant for no one else.

 

It all started after an argument the two had in his clinic one night. Fenris was laid up after a battle with slavers on the coast, and Anders was up writing his manifesto and wrapping up Fenris's rather brutal wounds. The two snapped at each other as they usually did, until the snapping crossed from unfriendly banter to cruelty.  


“You had everything and you threw it away! Thoughtless, foolish mage!” Fenris said harshly, bright green eyes flashing in the dim candlelight as he lay in the cot. Anders scoffed and tossed his loose strands of hair out of his eyes.  


“Everything? I suppose you had everything too in Tevinter. Your master kept you clothed and fed, but that didn't mean it was good or right! Even you realized slavery was wrong! Even you left!” Anders pointed out. Fenris was obstinate. Bull-headed. As tenacious as a mabari war-hound. He gripped onto an argument and never let go. His latest argument was that Circles taught mages, while slaves were merely bodies kept for blood rituals. The two had been arguing the finer points of slavery in Tevinter and the imprisonment of mages throughout Thedas for the past few weeks, much to the exasperation and frustration of their companions.  


“You had food and shelter! You had an education!” Fenris retorted, struggling to sit up in the cot. Anders let him. Fenris's handsome, aristocratic face was lined with pain, but he managed to successfully pull himself into a sitting position to glare at Anders.  


“I was locked up in a dungeon for over a year because I wanted to go outside!” Anders shot back, quicker that an arrow shot from Varric's crossbow. “I wanted to sit in the sunshine and I was shoved into a dark hole for it! You don't know what we suffer-”  


“You had books!” Fenris said bitterly. “You could learn! Magisters kept us stupid, kept us chained and dumb like animals for slaughter-  


“Fenris-”  


“When you escaped the Circle you knew how to survive. I knew nothing.” Fenris hissed out. “What use is knowing the table settings for a formal banquet when you cannot read your own name?”  


Anders's rage deflated into sorrow and regret. This was the wellspring of Fenris's bitterness, the source of his rage. Nothing. Fenris escaped into a world where he was completely ignorant and helpless. He had every right to be angry. Anders stepped away then, retreating into his back room.  


“Go to sleep, Fenris. I'll check on you in the morning.” Anders murmured before he left to continue his manifesto. He and Justice would write another one, one that condemned the practices of the Tevinter Imperium. No one would suffer as Fenris suffered. Never again.  


A few days later Anders visited Fenris's mansion for the first time, carrying a few small apples, a book of the common alphabet, and a rough draft of his newest manifesto. Anders and Justice agreed that a great injustice had been done to Fenris, and if they didn't correct it, who would?

 

“Anders?” Fenris's voice brought Anders back to the present, to the sound and smell of fire and mulled wine. “You were far away.” Fenris's bright green eyes were calculating, and Anders saw a faint spark of worry flicker in them. Anders smiled and the worry smoothed away into cautious friendliness.  


“Just reminiscing.” Anders said calmly. “What did I miss?”  


“Your selection this week.” Fenris gestured towards the book, a small smile crossing the elf's lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes, a smug sort of pride gleaming in those green depths. Anders knew that Fenris found infinite pleasure in discerning the secrets different books held within their pages. “Love poetry, Anders? Really?”  


“I borrowed it from Hawke.” Anders replied, grabbing the wine jug to take a swig. “I thought it would help to read something that wasn't a novel or the Chant of Light.”  


**“Liar.”** Justice intoned, voice ripe with disapproval as he spoke up. **“You brought it in hopes to woo him.”**  


“First Varric's novels, now romantic poetry.” Fenris's eyes were filled with humor, even as his mouth turned down in a mock frown. “I believe you are trying to seduce me.”  


“Depends.” Anders said breezily, desperate to hide the panic blooming in his chest because he was being too obvious, it was too soon, Fenris wasn't ready for this, might never be ready-  


“Is it working?” Anders employees his first, last, and only defense whenever he felt off balance. He ran his mouth. “If it isn't I'll try harder, I was quite the flirt when I was younger, you know. Let me know where I should improve my technique?”  


“Hmmmm.” Fenris reached over to the plate to chew on an apple turnover. “Perhaps. It may be more effective if you read the poems yourself.” He handed the book back to Anders. Anders took it and silently thanked the Maker for granting him the strength to keep his hands steady. Flirting was good. Flirting was not too much for Fenris right now. Anders could flirt, because he was certain that Fenris was returning his advances. Or was he?  


“Are you flirting with me, Fenris?” Anders asked cautiously as he smoothed the pages down with his hand. The corner of Fenris's lip curled upwards into a satisfied smirk, the smirk of a cat who got the freshest cream from the top of the jug.  


“Yes. As you have so much experience, I would be grateful for your input.” Fenris leaned over Anders's lap to grab the wine jug, his body warm against his leg. Anders took a deep breath and looked down at the page Fenris left the book open on before spluttering in surprise as he finally read the first stanza of the poem.  


“Is there a problem?” Fenris asked smoothly as Anders gaped at the words on the page in front of him. Anders shook his head quickly.  


“No! Of course not! I just didn't think- that is, I wasn't certain-” Anders replied, heat rushing to his face. Fenris didn't just open the book up to a love poem, but to the sort of filthy thing Isabela would write if Isabela wrote poetry and had an ounce of subtlety in her bones. Fenris must not have understood some of the words, and wanted Anders to read them before he tried them himself. Anders gulped and tried to start the poem, but his mouth was a little dry. He'd just have to try again, Anders thought, taking another breath to calm himself.  


“Or perhaps there is something else you would like from me?” Fenris murmured, his breath tickling the sensitive outer shell of Anders's ear. Anders jumped slightly and twisted his head to the side to meet Fenris's eyes.  


Fenris moved forward at that moment, leaning in and up to firmly press his mouth against Anders's own dry, slightly chapped lips. It was entirely too hard and harsh and hurried, their teeth clacking together and Fenris's weight pushing Anders back into the piled up cushions behind them. Anders collapsed too quickly under Fenris's weight, and Fenris moved too fast into the kiss as he followed Anders down into the cushions underneath their bodies. Anders moved up and Fenris moved down, and their foreheads smacked together loudly as a result. White stars of pain bloomed in Anders's vision as Fenris cursed lowly in Arcanum and clutched his head, his weight solid and firm on top of Anders's chest and body.  


“Andraste's tits.” Anders groaned, his mouth filled with Fenris's dry hair. It smelled like rich earth, leather, and fresh soap. “You have a hard head.”  


“So do you.” Fenris replied shortly, his lips moving against the hollow of Anders's throat. Anders shivered at the soft touch against his skin. “I did not prepare for this. I apologize.” Fenris pushed himself away. Anders instantly missed his warmth and reached out to tug Fenris back to him. He grasped nothing but air.  


“No!” Anders opened his eyes. “No, I wanted to, well, um... that is to say- shit, Fenris.” Fenris was curled up on the cushions, a few feet away from Anders and his face buried into his arms. The tips of his ears were bright pink. He looked miserable, and Anders wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and cuddle him. But he restrained himself because Fenris would run away if he pushed too much.  


“You cannot embarrass yourself any more than I have embarrassed myself.” Fenris mumbled, his words muffled by his forearms. Anders sighed and pushed himself up to sit, He had to say something. Fenris wasn't looking at him, and Anders thought they had gotten past uncomfortable silences months ago. There was nothing for Fenris to be ashamed about.  


“I wasn't embarrassed.” Anders clarified. “Well, only a little. I haven't kissed anyone in so long, I was terrible. Not an ideal first kiss.” Fenris's head slowly rose up to meet Anders's gaze, his eyes puzzled.  


“I don't understand.” Fenris said, unfolding his slight body and turning towards Anders. Anders took Fenris's slow relaxation as a positive sign.  


“I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, Fenris. I've wanted that and a lot more. But I didn't want to scare you off.” Anders said, his voice soothing, adopting the tone he took when he wanted to soothe a spooked cat. “I didn't think you were ready-”  


“That is not your choice to make.” Fenris replied, voice low and edged with harshness and hurt. “I will decide if I am ready, Anders. Me. You had no right to- to keep this from me!” His eyes were blazing now, twin pools of green fire that glared at Anders, indignant and full of hurt.  


“I didn't think-” Anders began. Fenris scoffed, his laugh bitter and so unhappy that it hurt to hear it.  


“Obviously-” Fenris replied, his voice harsh and biting.  


“I didn't realize you wanted it too!” Anders blurted out quickly before Fenris could further detail how much Anders had hurt him, betrayed him, wounded his trust and- Anders lowered his head. The room was silent, save for the soft pop and crackle of the fire.  


“Oh.” Fenris said, so soft it was barely a sound. “Oh.”  


“Yes. Oh. So where does that leave us, Fenris?” Anders asked, frustration creeping into his voice. He regretted it instantly when Fenris's ears drooped and his expression crumbled. “I didn't- it's not your fault, Fenris. And I'm not angry.” He hastily added. “I don't know what you want, that's all.”  


“I want to kiss you again.” Fenris muttered. Anders thought he misheard, until Fenris raised his head and repeated himself, louder, clearer, his expression one of fixed determination.  


“I want to kiss you again, Anders.” He said, scooting forward until he was pressed up against Anders, his hands placed flat on either side of Anders's outstretched legs.  


“That's... you're- of course you're certain, so, ah, where should I-” Anders tried to think of something to say, but all that came out was his stuttered nonsense. Why wouldn't words work when he needed them to?  


“Keep still.” Fenris murmured, breath warm against Anders's face before he leaned in and pressed his lips against Anders's own. Anders sighed, letting out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. Fenris was a warm weight, and Anders parted his lips in an attempt to encourage the elf to go further. But Fenris held himself stiffly, like he was half frozen as a marble statue. Anders reached up and cupped Fenris's face, rubbing his thumb against Fenris's jaw. It was then that Fenris relaxed, became pliant and soft and very, very eager- so eager, in fact, that Anders was pushed back into the cushions as Fenris straddled his and used his hands to tug and play with Anders's hair. When they finally drew back they were desperate for air. Fenris's face was flushed and his eyes dancing with mirth, excitement, and so much energy that Anders felt his bone-deep exhaustion melting away.  


“I trust that this was better than my last attempt.” Fenris said, so pleased with himself that his voice held an edge of rich, bright laughter in it. Anders thought it was one of the loveliest sounds he had ever heard.  


“Hmmm, I don't know.” Anders teased, a broad smile on his face as he tugged Fenris back down into the pillows with him. “I believe that you need a lot more practice, Fenris.”  


The book of poetry lay next to them, completely forgotten.


End file.
